


we loved in shades of wrong

by LeaOotori



Series: state of grace [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemy Lovers, Fever Dreams, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaOotori/pseuds/LeaOotori
Summary: “My, my. I’m a bad soul mate, aren’t I?”The Kurta’s head snapped up, eyes comically wide as he zeroed in on the man perched on the windowsill. Pale, dark-eyed and dark-haired, sporting the same infuriating smirk and gaudy clothes, he sat there, swinging his feet childishly. “Chrollo,” Kurapika breathed, the name passing his lips like a curse. “What-- what are you doing here?”(sequel to the oneshot "these are the hands of fate", but can be read alone since it is canon compliant)





	1. touch and go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there... it's been a while. I've been working on this forever (ever since I posted the first part) but I've been so busy and I lost motivation towards the end. I decided that perhaps what I needed was some feedback and some time to marinate without keeping you guys waiting for too long, so I'm going to be posting this in chapters. I have the fic mostly planned out right now, even though it's a little foggy in some bits. That being said, I do take suggestions as this is still up in the air where this is going to go. Whether you're an old reader (thanks for sticking around!!) or a new reader, I hope you enjoy this!! 
> 
> For those who haven't read "these are the hands of fate": this is canon compliant, so most of it should be understandable. This takes place during the Yorknew arc, and when Kurapika captured Chrollo and took away his nen, he discovered the two of them shared a soul mark. Melody is aware of this, but none of the others are. Chrollo has somewhat of a fascination with Kurapika now :) *In this universe, soul marks are on the left wrist*
> 
> Lastly, there are parts of dialogue in this that are taken directly from either the original anime, the reboot anime, or the manga. This is part of it being canon-compliant, but there is a bit of artistic license as I picked and chose the lines I would use and edited them to fit this story. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

“And _then_ ,” Gon gesticulated excitedly, demonstrating the size of one of the members of the Phantom Troupe. “He  _ slammed  _ my hand down, and I wanted to punch him so bad--” 

****

“You’ve already told this story _twice_ ,” Killua remarked boredly, scratching circles into the table with pointed nails as his sharp eyes drifted over to Kurapika, who had been smiling faintly and nodding along this entire time. “And I don’t think they’re even listening.” 

****

“They  _ are  _ listening!” the other boy protested with a rather childish pout, looking over at the three seated across from him. “Aren’t you?”

****

“Of course we are,” Melody reassured, doing her best to diffuse the tension of the situation, looking over to Leorio for help. 

****

“Only a little longer, and we’ll be back in the city!”  The doctor-in-training declared instead, ignoring Melody entirely. “Man, feels like a whole weight got taken off my shoulders! Just in time for the auction, too.” 

****

Gon, ever easily distracted, launched into a detailed description of his ploys to secure a copy of _Greed Island_ , lamenting his own lack of money. “Hey, Kurapika,” Killua spoke up suddenly, interrupting his best friend’s rant. “You look off.” 

****

“I’m alright,” the Kurta smiled, fisting his hands in his drooping sleeves. His wrist throbbed, as if it was saying ‘ _liar…. liar…. liar…_ ’.  “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

****

Killua caught Melody’s worried expression and leaned closer, his cat-like eyes searching the older boy’s face intently. “If you say so,” he muttered, but his gaze was unwavering and distrusting.

****

_ It’s like he’s trying to read my mind,  _ Kurapika thought, almost amused by the ex-assassin’s scathing look.  _ I wouldn’t put it past a Zoldyck.  _ Even remembering the brief meeting with Killua’s father and grandfather still sent a strange sort of chill down his spine. Their eyes were so cold, so  _ dead _ , so full of nothing but darkness. 

****

    In fact, they reminded him of _certain_ someone. 

****

Almost as if on cue, his left wrist throbbed again under the thick gauze Leorio had plastered over it. Thankfully, Killua had gone back to talking, so he didn’t seem to notice. Or, more likely, he was pretending not to notice just to give the older boy some space. Whatever the reason, Kurapika still tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he put pressure on the wound, anxiety making a knot in his stomach as he tried to expel the thoughts of a certain criminal from his mind. 

****

* * *

****

“We’re here!” Gon yelled, face lighting up. “Finally!” 

****

“You can go ahead and go down,” Leorio said, opening the hatch to the dock. “I’ll come down last.” Killua moved past the rest of the group to scurry down the ladder, followed by Gon. The two boys began chattering as soon as they reached the ground, energetic even after having been at risk of dying mere hours before. 

****

“Nothing can ruin their mood, can it?” Melody laughed as she moved to make her way down. Kurapika smiled in response, not being able to think up any other response. She studied his face again for a moment before looking away to descend down to the dock, leaving just the blonde and Leorio on the upper deck. 

****

“See you at the bottom,” the older man said with a cheeky smile.

****

The words barely even registered as Kurapika lowered himself onto the first rung, knees suddenly feeling shaky.  _ I’m just tired,  _ he told himself as he climbed down. There was still a mental checklist going on in his head; a tally of all the things left to take care of if they were to finish the job entrusted to them by the Boss.  _ Only a little longer... _

****

By the time he was halfway down, he was struggling. The clang of his chains against the metal ladder grew increasingly louder and obnoxious as he began to struggle with an increased sense of vertigo. He risked a glance down, and the floor seemed much too far away. _Spinning, spinning, spinning_. 

 

_    "Kurapika?!”   _ He could hear someone yelling. _Or maybe multiple someones._ He couldn’t tell; all of the noise just began to echo in the metal chamber and melt together in his ears.  _ I just need to get down,  _ he told himself, forcing himself to look at his hands on the ladder instead of the ground still many feet down. 

****

    His eyes fell on  his chain-covered hand instead of his wounded one, hoping his stubbornness would alleviate the queasiness in his stomach.  _ “Kurapika!”   _ Who was it this time? He lowered himself down another rung, pausing to adjust his grip, but something made him freeze, eyes wide and back rigid.  _ What  _ is  _ that?  _ Something was warm and sticky amid his chains, causing them to clump together, making a disgusting  _squelch_ when he tried to peel his hand off of the ladder.  _ What is…?  _ His arms were trembling, shaking, but he managed to pull his hand off of the rung, peering at it in blatant confusion.  _ Blood.  _

****

_    Blood. Blood. Blood.  _ There was blood everywhere; on his chains < _blood >_, dripping on the _< blood> _ladder, covering _< blood> _his hands and his clothes and dripping down the _< blood> _walls of the room and dribbling over his eyelashes _< blood> _and--  _ “Kurapika!”  _

****

His own name echoing in his ears was the last thing he heard before his vision faded to black. 

****

* * *

 

 

_ Chains. Chains. Chains.  _

****

__ _ He was wrapped up in them, the metal holding him down as he struggled to breathe under their weight. It was suffocating; claustrophobic. There was someone in front of him, hovering over him, on top of him-- _

****

__ “Kurapika.” _ The voice was solid, deep, emotionless. And to match it, a pair of soulless black eyes.  _ “Kurapika.”

****

__ _ “Stop,” the blonde tried to say, but his voice died out in his throat. He worked his jaw, shaky breaths escaping him as the man leaned over him, too close for comfort. “Stop.”  _

****

__ _ Their lips met. It was soft; too soft. Kurapika felt cold and warm at the same time, shivers running up his back as his face burned. He tried in vain to push the older man off of him, but the chains restricted his movement, dragging his arms down and sandwiching them between the two of them.  _

****

__ _ “Stop,” the Kurta tried to mutter again, the word coming out like a painful whipser, only to met with a sordid smirk and the word “Kurapika” falling off of the damned man’s perfect lips.  _ “Kurapika…”

****

* * *

 

 

“Kurapika!” 

****

The blonde could not find it in him to open his eyes immediately. Distantly, he could hear noises of a busy city over the overwhelming scent of stagnant water. 

****

“He’s awake.” 

****

_ Leorio?  _ The Kurta opened his eyes just a crack to see paint peeling off the ceiling above him. Everything was blank for a full moment.  _ Where am I?  _ Suddenly, it all came rushing back.  _ The Phantom Troupe. Are they… gone?  _ He swallowed dryly. “What… time is it?” he managed finally. 

****

“Two in the afternoon,” a softer voice replied.  _ Melody?  _

****

__ Kurapika could feel stiff bedsprings and wooden boards pressing into his back as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea. “So… I slept for… half a day?” There was no response. The blonde turned his head in the slightest to see Melody and Leorio sitting near the edge of the bed, looking like they had been awake for days on end. “Where’s the boss?” he asked instead. “What about the auction?”

****

“They cancelled it,” Melody spoke up. “The rest will be sold online. The boss agreed to it too.” 

****

The Kurta fixed his gaze on the table at the base of the bed set with water and a basin, trying to stabilize his shaky, blurry vision. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, seeing his coworker shift uncomfortably in the corner of his vision. “...the boss was really looking forward to taking part in the auction. I… don’t see her accepting a cancellation so easily.” 

****

Leorio gave Melody a pitying look. Avoiding the blonde’s gaze, she sighed. “The Troupe murdered Squala,” she blurted out finally.  _ What?  _  “And… Elisa, well… she was inconsolable.” Kurapika squeezed his eyes shut, trying to process the new fact.  _ Squala? Dead?  _ “The Scarlet Eyes were stolen, but the boss was more upset over Elisa’s state than that,” his coworker continued. Somewhere, deep in his chest, the Kurta felt a jolt of pain.  _ The Scarlet Eyes… they slipped away… again…  _ “She told us she wanted to go home.” 

****

“I understand,” Kurapika said, surprised when his voice came out solid.  _ Hold it together.  _  “Gon and Killua?”

****

“They’re both just fine,” Melody began, but the blonde did not hear the rest. The room had begun to swirl around him as the words became mere echoes lost in the rushing sounds in his ears.  _ They’re okay,  _ he thought, a foreign sense of relief flooding his chest.  _ They’re okay.  _

****

* * *

__

“ _ Are you okay?”  _

****

__ _ The words were soft, almost like they were being whispered in his ear. There were feather light touches on his upper arms, his shoulders, his back. It felt like a cloud was engulfing him, holding him, slowly suffocating him. There was a familiar pressure on his lips and Kurapika accepted it wordlessly, letting a pair of cold lips take charge. It was chaste, delicate, sweet, and his mouth was filled with the heavy taste of blood.  _

****

__ _ Kurapika’s eyes flew open as he remembered the fact that he had autonomy for the first time. He was met with a pair of wide, unapologetic black eyes staring back at him. Panic rising in his chest, the Kurta attempting to push back against his captor, but the kiss was stubborn and suffocating, draining the air out of him as iron-strong arms pinned him in place.  _

****

__ _ On a terrified whim, the blonde whipped his head to the side, snapping his teeth viciously and managing to sink them into the other man’s lip. The black-eyed man pulled back, brandishing a sinister grin as drops of sanguine blood dripped down his lip, staining his pale skin. Still, his grip around the Kurta’s waist remained strong.  _

****

__ _ “Where do you think you’re going, little Kurapika?”  _

__

* * *

 

****

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Melody asked nervously, seemingly reluctant to approach Kurapika as he sat huddled up in his blanket in the corner of the room. His eyes were wide open, with his eyes red and pupils blown, but his face expressionless and demeanor suggesting non-cognizance. 

****

Leorio sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets as he backed away. “He still has a fever,” he mumbled, exhausted. “Better than earlier, though.” 

****

“Is he awake?”

****

“No,” the doctor-in-training said decidedly. “The signs indicate this is a fever-induced sleepwalking episode. He’s still knocked out.” The older man fiddled with his rustled and messy shirt sleeves before turning to Melody. “There’s nothing we can do but keep an eye on him at this point.” 

****

The smaller woman sighed, turning away. “Alright.” 

****

There was an extended pause before Leorio spoke up again, sounded equal parts resolved and hesitant. “Melody… what did… what happened on the airship?”

****

At the question, the woman’s eyes darted up, right to the other man’s concerned expression. She averted her eyes. “I…” 

****

“Please, Melody,” he pleaded, now sounding outright desperate. “I know Kurapika probably made you promise not to say anything. But he’s headstrong, you know that. I want to help him, and I can’t stand not knowing what’s hurting him like this.” Melody heard him sit down on the rickety bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “Kurapika… he’s not like that. He would never hurt himself for no good reason. Not even…” his voice cracked. “...not even when the Troupe…” he trailed off, prompting Melody to steal another look at him. He looked defeated, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, his glasses dangling loosely from one hand. 

****

    Guilt bubbled up in her throat.  _ I should let Kurapika tell him whenever he feels the time is right,  _ one side of her argued, but there was a large part of her that needed Leorio to know. She couldn’t handle the burden of this appalling truth alone, and neither could Kurapika. “You can’t tell him,” she finally croaked out. Leorio’s head snapped up in surprise. “You can’t tell him I told you.” She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “Please, just… act like you never heard a word of this.” 

* * *

 

****

   “There’s no way,” the utter and complete devastation and shock was evident on Leorio’s face. “It can’t be…” Melody remained silent, trying to occupy herself staring at the peeling paint decorating the otherwise drab walls.“It has to be a misunderstanding,” the doctor-in-training was pacing, shaking his head, muttering under his breath like a madman. “How could this even be _possible_?” His voice was slowly raising, eyes delirious as he approached Melody, seizing her by the shoulders. “This isn’t funny! Something like this isn’t a _joke_ \--”

****

    She slapped a hand across the young man’s mouth, casting a weary look at Kurapika, who they had finally managed to drag back onto the bed. “Let’s talk outside,” she said, fixing Leorio with a pointed look. “I don’t want to wake him up.” Still rigid with tension and disbelief, he gave a stiff nod, following Melody out of the room as they shut the door behind them.

****

    “It can’t be,” Leorio said as they were outside, stuck in a loop of denial. He was rolling up his left sleeve subconsciously, rubbing at his own soul mark. “ _ How? _ ” 

****

    “Listen, Leorio,” Melody began in her soothing voice. “I--” 

****

    “This isn’t time for  _ listening, _ ” the doctor-in-training scowled, yanking his glasses off to run a hand down his face. “We have to find Chrollo, we have to--” 

****

    “Finding him will do nothing,” Melody argued in an even tone. “That’ll just give him a lead to find Kurapika again.” 

****

    “But-- we can--”

****

   “We can’t kill him either,” she continued before Leorio could even propose the idea. “You know what happens if we do that. You’re a doctor.” 

****

   The younger man fell silent, thinking of every medical textbook he had ever read, scouring for an answer to the predicament but finding none. Losing one’s soul mate was, simply put, absolutely detrimental to health and well-being. Most people sank into cycles of depression and drugs after losing their soul mates: it was the single hardest thing to come back from. With Kurapika in such a terrible position, it wasn’t smart to risk it.  _ But what else can be done?  _

****

   “You need to breathe,” Melody advised with a sigh, turning back to lock the door to the room the Kurta was still sleeping in. “Killua and Gon are training outside the building. Kurapika will be fine, let’s go for a walk.” 

****

   Leorio simply nodded wordlessly, hands shoved in his pockets and not meeting her eyes. “Killua and Gon--” 

****

   “Don’t tell them,” Melody interrupted, shaking her head. “I don’t think they can handle it.” She swallowed, voice softening even more. "I don't even know if I should've told you." 

****

   Neither of them said another word, leaving the rundown building in a heavy silence. 

****

* * *

****

There was a dark, somber kind of ringing silence enveloping Kurapika when consciousness slowly hit him. The smell of rotting floorboards and peeling walls filled up his nostrils, but he couldn’t hear a single thing. With a groan, he tried to turn on his side, relieved when he heard the bedsprings creak underneath him as they pressed into his back.  _ So I’m not deaf,  _ he reassured himself. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to his head, which had him struggling to open his eyes. For almost a full minute, he repeated a fruitless cycle of attempting to look around at his surroundings before snapping his eyes shut again when the light made them ache.

****

When he finally managed to open his eyes fully, he took in the room.  _ I’ve seen this before,  _ he thought to himself, eyes flitting around the damp, desolate quarters. It felt like the entire building was built at an angle, as everything tilted precariously towards the door. Wincing as his abdominal muscles screamed out at him, he did his best to use the bedframe to push himself up, one hand carding through his tangled mess of hair.  _ Where am I?  _ He wondered distantly, appalled at the amount of effort it was taking him to move even an inch. 

****

He closed his eyes again for a moment, trying to stop the dizziness that threatened to send him spiraling back down onto the bed.  _ Breathe,  _ he reminded himself. His lungs shuddered as a cold draft wound its way around him, making goosebumps rise on his skin as he broke into a coughing fit. When it was finally over, he drew the blanket on the bed around him like a cocoon, trying to seek warmth the best he could. 

****

“My, my. I’m a bad soul mate, aren’t I?” 

****

The Kurta’s head snapped up, eyes comically wide as he zeroed in on the man perched on the windowsill to his left. Pale, dark-eyed and dark-haired, sporting the same infuriating smirk and gaudy clothes, he sat there, swinging his feet childishly. “Chrollo,” Kurapika breathed, the name passing his lips like a curse. “What-- what are you doing here?” 

****

“I think you know, dear soul mate,” the older man chirped gleefully, slipping his hands into his pockets as he stood.

****

“Get out of here, now!” the blonde fired back, mustering all the anger he could in his state. Another cold draft slipped in through the window, raising another set of shivers to Kurapika’s skin. “And close that goddamn window while you’re at it!”

 

“Oh, dear me. I should be taking better care of you, shouldn’t I?” Turning behind him, the former Troupe Leader closed the window with a definitive click, sealing the two in the cramped room together. “Now, where were we?”

****

Boots clicking on the floor, the dark-haired man took another step closer, eyes depthless in how they fixed on Kurapika like prey. “ _Leave_ , Chrollo,” the Kurta said, ashamed at how meek he sounded. “Before this gets ugly.” It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. There was no way Kurapika could put a scratch on Chrollo in this state, nen or not. 

****

“That would be a pity,” Chrollo remarked, voice dipping dangerously low as his eyes flitted over the blonde's face. “I don’t particularly like ugly things.” 

****

    Kurapika was done speaking to the despicable man in front of him, but the heaviness weighing upon his limbs reigned him back from starting a physical conflict. He could do nothing else but shrink back pathetically against the bed, fingers fisted in the sheets as he desperately tried to summon his chains. They flickered pathetically in and out of existence. “Chrollo--” 

****

   “I _do_ rather enjoy it when you say my name…” their faces were just inches away from each other now, the older man’s knees coming to rest on the edge of the bed. “... _Kurapika._ ” The way Chrollo said his name sent a shiver running up the Kurta’s spine-- it was all but a _purr._ _I’m just cold,_ Kurapika told himself in vain. The chains, in their elementary, nearly weightless, form, wrapped around Chrollo, pulsing like a beating heart and pulling him closer despite Kurapika’s best efforts as he struggled to make the chains longer. “You really like tying me up, don’t you?” the older man smirked. “This is new. It’s usually the other way around.” 

****

   Kurapika grit his teeth in response, not even having the mental fortitude to respond to the innuendo. The chains began to flicker again in the Kurta’s panic, the bare vestiges of them keeping Chrollo at bay. Taking advantage of that fact, the older man reached out a hand, so slow that it felt like it must have been in slow motion. Kurapika flinched, reaching up to block with his other hand as his chains began to fail him entirely, but the former Troupe Leader just smiled mirthlessly, moving the younger man’s hand away gently to rest his own against the Kurta’s forehead. “You have a fever.” 

****

   The Kurta stared at him wordlessly, finally giving in as the chains faded entirely into thin air again, leaving Chrollo standing bare inches away from him, hand resting on the his face. He was so close that Kurapika forgot to breathe. It was so strange to see the man he had hunted for years this up close. From here, he could see the small details of the cross on Chrollo’s head, every single gelled hair sticking in place, and his own pale reflection in those dark, unblinking eyes. Kurapika swallowed, choosing to look away and letting his eyes land on the globe-like earrings dangling from the older man’s ears instead.

****

   They were glittery, clear, almost like the ocean and ironic in their purity.  _ They don’t seem to really match his aesthetic, do they?   _ The Kurta thought for a moment, before snapping out of his reverie to flinch away from the pale hand which had made a home on his face. “Are you here to kill me?” 

****

   “I couldn’t kill my soul mate,” the older man remarked simply. “After all, nen gets stronger after death. It wouldn’t be a smart move on my part, would it?” 

****

   Kurapika was not satisfied with that answer. He bared his teeth again, prepared to bite him if the time should come. “Get away from me.” 

****

   Chrollo just smiled. “You need rest,” he said simply, as if he hadn’t heard a word Kurapika had said in the last ten minutes. He reached out again, and the blonde no longer had the energy to stop him. This time, the hand found a home in Kurapika’s hair, the golden locks gleaming as they tangled and twisted around merciless fingers, tugging him down to the mattress. “Sleep, Kurapika.” 

****

   The Kurta had no idea what Chrollo had done, or how he had done it, for that matter, or if maybe it was just his own fever-riddled body giving in. Whatever it was, it only took a few moments for him to give in and close his eyes, letting his mind fade to unconsciousness, the image of the mockingly gentle Chrollo branded on the backs of his eyelids. 

****

* * *

****

When Kurapika finally awoke again, his head had finally stopped pounding. He no longer felt that surge of dizziness while lying perfectly still, which was an improvement on its own.

 

“Kurapika?” Melody’s soft voice piped up from his side, pushing him down as he moved to raise himself up off of the bed. “You should be resting.” 

****

The blonde ignored her words, raising a bandaged hand to his head to give himself some semblance of stability. “What about the boss?” he whispered, voice cracked and dry. “And the underground auction?” His eyes reached Melody’s, flitting over her and willing himself to see her worried face and not flashes of Chrollo’s bottomless eyes staring back at him. “Was the boss satisfied?” 

****

His coworker let out a soft sigh, pushing him firmly back down onto the bed and shaking her head. “Rest, Kurapika.” 

****

A strong sense of deja vu shook him. “Have I asked you this before?” he wondered distantly, speaking out loud without meaning to.  

“You have,” the older woman conceded carefully, studying him with a stern gaze. “Stay here. I’ll fetch Leorio.” 

****

The Kurta didn’t say a word as she left him in the room alone, contemplating his foggy memories as they rushed back to him.  _ Was he really here?  _ Kurapika wondered, eyes darting to the firmly closed window.  _ It can’t be. How would be get in so stealthily, even lacking his nen?  _

****

Shaking his head, the blonde pushed himself off the bed, using the wall to stand up, even as his legs felt like jelly underneath him.  _ It must have been a dream,  _ he decided, angry at himself for even having thoughts of the Phantom Troupe Leader.  _ Just another nightmare.  _ He limped his way to the window, hands settled shakily on the windowsill when his bare, chainless hand nudged something cold and round on the edge of it.  Pursing his lips, Kurapika looked down, looking down to see what he had touched in the rather unfurnished and conspicuously bare room. 

 

_    It can’t be. _

****

   His breath froze in his throat as he moved away, as if burned, eyes glued to the glittering, ocean-clear earring that sat innocently on the brink of the crumbling windowsill, the light of the afternoon reflecting off of it and casting shadows like those of stained glass over the floor. 

 

_    No.  _

 

_    He couldn’t have been here,  _ Kurapika thought rapidly, frozen and staring at the seemingly innocent object that brought his nightmare to life.  _ There’s no way.  _

****

   “He seems to be more aware,” he heard Melody’s muffled voice from the hall. “And I think his fever has gone down.” The approaching footsteps were getting dangerously close and Kurapika could feel unwarranted panic clawing up his throat. Some part of his was terrified of either of them discovering that Chrollo had visited.  _ They can’t know,  _ he thought frantically, though he could discern no reason as to why. 

****

   Behind him, the wooden door began to creak open, hinges screaming as they were forced to move. In a move of undulated and unwarranted fear, Kurapika reached out and grabbed the sole earring, holding it tight in his bandaged hand before either of his friends saw it.  _ They can’t know, shouldn’t know--  _

****

   “Kurapika?”  The blonde looked up to see Leorio looking at him with narrowed, worried eyes. “How are you feeling?” 

****

   The Kurta opened his mouth to respond, but he could do nothing but work his jaw. His mind was still reeling, high on adrenaline and fear and panic and _something else_ that was rising in his chest that he couldn’t name; didn’t care to name. He closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them to see everything painted a watery shade of magenta once more. “The Phantom Troupe,” he muttered suddenly, curling his hands into his chest as he considered that what had happened was not a nightmare, but the cold truth of reality.  _ Chrollo had come to visit.  _

****

   “They can’t find you now,” Melody said reassuringly, trying to ground her friend with all the calmness she could muster. “You’re safe.” 

****

   “You’re wrong,” Kurapika breathed out, eyes stubbornly plastering themselves to the floor as he tried to work through the conundrum his brain was offering him. “You’re wrong.” 

****

   “What do you mean?” Leorio asked, stepping forward. “Kura--” 

****

   “You’re wrong,” the Kurta repeated. There were rough currents of blood rushing through his ears, vision shifting from blood red to crimson to even shades of pink as he looked everywhere, anywhere, but the frightened and worried gazes fixed on him. “They can find me any time.” 

****

   There was a long moment of silence. “Doesn’t matter,” Leorio quipped finally, mouth set in a firm line. “Even if they did, they’d have to go through me first.”

****

   Kurapika took a rough breath, flexing his bare right hand for a moment before shifting his gaze down to it. His chains flickered into existence, the heavy weight grounding him, but not before he felt the faint vestiges of materialized blood shifting through the recesses and crevices of his lithe fingers. “They won’t kill me,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone. “He won’t kill me.” 

****

   He made his right hand into a fist to match his left, the imaginary blood sticking to his fingers and making a disgusting noise. “The spider can’t kill me, even if they wanted to.” He finally lifted his gaze to Leorio and Melody, who looked at him, unmoving and unsettled. “Nen does not dissipate after death,” he said, as if trying to offer himself an explanation,  _ any  _ explanation as to why he was still alive, holding his arch enemy’s jewelry hidden and tucked away in his soul marked hand. “In fact, it only makes it stronger.” 

****

   “What are you trying to say, Kurapika?” the doctor-in-training’s voice was gentle, but there was a firm, inquisitive undertone to it. 

****

   “Can you see something?” Melody asked, finally piping up with her delicate, soothing voice. “Something that we can’t?” 

****  
Kurapika just shook his head slowly, squeezing both fists so hard that the imaginary chains and the ridges of the earring cut into his palms with twin jolts of pain. “Give me a moment,” he said finally, turning back towards the window, the conjured metallic clinking of his chains echoing in his ears. “Just a moment.”  _ So that I can convince myself of my own lies.  _  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Again, sorry it took so long to get this out, but I've been busy!! Please leave a kudos or comment with suggestions and thoughts-- it really motivates me and gives me good ideas to write. 
> 
> This was unbetaed, so feel free to point out any mistakes. Gosh, editing and writing this, I wrote the word "blood" so many times I started reading it as "blued". I laughed like a maniac for almost a whole minute before I realized how psychotic I must be to laugh while writing something like this... 
> 
> That aside-- 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope to be back with another chapter soon!!


	2. love is a ruthless game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika tries to find a way to escape his soul mate, but no matter how far he runs, Chrollo will always be right on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya, I'm just as surprised as any of you guys right now. Another chapter? In just around a month? What witchcraft is this???
> 
> Jokes aside-- yes, I managed to get past my perpetual OCD and writer's block to actually write this instead of sitting on my ass. I guess it's not important that I was actually using this as an excuse to procrastinate on actual work I have to finish? *sheepish grin* 
> 
> Anyways, enough of my rambling. :) NOTE: There is some minor gore in this chapter. Well, minor by my standards. You have been warned!! 
> 
> Enjoy, see you at the bottom!

   All the muscles in Kurapika’s back screamed as he pushed himself off of the rickety bed that he’d been practically glued to for the past days. _I’d be happy if I never saw this goddamned room again,_ the Kurta thought bitterly, trying to roll some feeling back into his shoulders before he made his way over to the door, feeling considerably less dizzy than he had been feeling in the days past. 

****

   Melody and Leorio had left him at his insistence-- the two of them had been so engrossed in taking care of their friend that they had barely slept since the airship had landed back in the outskirts of the city. Kurapika tried to put his muscles to use again, leaving his room for the first time in days. The halls outside felt awfully empty, with no furniture and an echo-y quality as a result of the cement floors and leaking ceiling. 

****

    The Kurta absentmindedly rubbed a hand up and down his still-bandaged left hand, feeling the loose ends of the worn gauze catch on his cut-and-battered fingers. He hadn’t even attempted to re-summon his chains since Chrollo’s… _impromptu visit._ It felt entirely too draining, and he wanted to focus on conserving his energy to heal and stay ready if disaster was to come knocking at his door (or his window) again. 

****

    But all that reasoning did nothing to lessen the ache of missing the absent weight on his right hand. Without the wonted chains, he felt rather naked. Vulnerable. _Weak._ Doing his best to banish those thoughts from his mind, Kurapika continued his painstaking task of getting the blood to flow back through his legs. On this quest, he happened to hear the mutterings of a familiar voice from a brightly lit room down the hallway. 

****

    The bright yellow light from the room spilled down the dimly lit corridor, reflecting on a small puddle that had formed under one of the numerous leaks in the ceiling. The Kurta took special care to step past the puddle, pushing open the ancient door and poking his head in. It seemed that while most of the building had been left to rot, the _entire_ thing wasn’t decrepit and crumbling. 

****

    This room had sparse furniture; a sofa, a small rug and overhead lights arranged across the ceiling. In the middle of it all lay Gon, legs propped up on the wall as he lay on his back, seemingly talking to the air. His large brown eyes drifted to the door, musings halting before excitement replaced his blank expression. “Kurapika?!” He launched upright, spiky hair in disarray from rolling around on the floor. “Are you feeling any better?” 

   

    The blonde gave the younger boy the brightest smile he could muster, walking into the room fully. “Yeah, my fever broke, so I’m alright now.” Gon still looked utterly unconvinced, studying the older boy with the most serious expression that Kurapika had ever seen on his face. Still feeling rather sluggish, Kurapika made his way over to the couch, sinking into the cushions in front of where the younger boy had been dawdling. “Tell me, how did everything go at the auction? I believe you were going after an expensive game?” 

 

    At the mention of the game, Gon’s face lit up, launching into another detailed account of how he had ended up misusing auction symbols and the expensive suits and the imposing old man who had finally acquired the game. _So easily distracted,_ the blonde mused. _Like a puppy._ “I see,” Kurapika said finally when the younger boy reached a stopping point in his enthusiastic retelling. “So they’re screening players, are they?” 

****

    Gon nodded, lips fixed in a frustrated pout before it transformed into something thoughtful. “Hey, Kurapika,” he said, voice subdued as if he had suddenly had an epiphany. “What kind of training did you do while you were gone?” 

****

    The Kurta furrowed his brow, considering the question. _Where do I begin?_ “Well,” he said slowly, “Once I decided I wanted to conjure chains, it most mostly imagery training.” In all honesty, Kurapika could barely remember those days. They had been lost to hours and hours of training, hellbent on getting the most powerful specialization possible. Every moment, waking or not, was spent slaving over his nen. “Not only did I feel them with my eyes closed, but I drew hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of sketches… looked at them, tasted them, smell them, listened to them…” at that point, it was as if they had become an extension of his being. 

****

    Kurapika turned to Gon to find him still listening with rapt attention and concentrated, unblinking eyes. “My master told me to play with them constantly, so that’s exactly what I did. After a while, he took them away from me. That’s when I began to hallucinate the chains.” The memory reminded him of hallucinating bloody chains of the late, making the blonde shiver. _Not now._ “It wasn’t long after that the hallucinations began to feel heavy. I would feel them… cold and grating. Once that happened, I was able to conjure them myself. Otherwise, it was the same as you-- just ten and ren.” 

****

    The younger boy had yet to tear his gaze away from his friend’s face. He seemed to be thinking awfully hard, face screwed up in thought. “Kurapika, I have an idea!” He burst suddenly, another wide smile splitting his face. “You can be my master! You can point out what I’m doing right and what I got wrong--” 

****

    “Ah, I’m sorry,” Kurapika interrupted before Gon got ahead of himself. “I can’t. I’m afraid my boss will be leaving tomorrow, and I’m obligated to accompany her.” He felt bad for declining his friend, but he had taken up a responsibility, and he couldn’t abandon Melody and the others so soon after such drastic hits were taken to their ranks of bodyguards. 

****

  “You’re leaving Yorknew?” The younger boy asked. Kurapika had expected the words to be said in disappointment, but instead, they seemed to be tinged with… relief? _That can’t be right,_ he decided hastily. _I’m in worse shape than I thought I was if I’m struggling to read_ **_Gon_ ** _of all people._

****

   Instead of musing about Gon’s emotions, the blonde looked back at his friend, attempting a half-hearted shrug. “I’m still concerned about the Spiders,” he managed. “But it’s been two days now.” Kurapika fought not to fidget at the lone earring burning a hole in his pocket, instead smiling at the younger boy and lying through his teeth. “I suppose they’ve probably left already.” 

****

* * *

****

   Kurapika shoved his hands in his pockets. Once upon a time, he had always stared at Leorio disapprovingly when he did exactly that. Combined with Leorio's famous slouched posture, it was quite an unbecoming and unprofessional to carry oneself. But now, the Kurta was being a bit of a hypocrite. He had recently developed the habit of rolling the earring Chrollo had left behind in between his fingers, wondering at how it always seemed to be cold, regardless of how long he had been holding it, his body heat no doubt attempting to warm it up. 

****

   “So, you don’t want to tell them you’re leaving or anything?" 

****

   The doctor-in-training’s voice snapped Kurapika out of his thoughts. “No,” he said, shaking his head resolutely. “With the training they’re doing, every last moment counts.” The words were partly true. _But you know that it really is,_ his conscience taunted. _You just can’t bear to look at their faces any longer without telling the truth._ That fact sent off a pang of guilt in his stomach. He managed a weak smile at Leorio before pulling his guilty hand out of his pocket. “So long.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed his luggage, walking off. He could hear indistinct murmurs of Melody speaking to Leorio behind him, but he tried not to pay it any mind. 

****

_I have work to do,_ he told himself, setting his shoulders back. _I can’t afford to let anything stop me._ Chin up, chains clinking, soul mate throb dulling, Kurapika clenched his jaw and got in line to board the airship, trying his best to banish a pair of dark eyes from his mind. 

****

* * *

****

   “Take good care of him, will you?” Leorio asked, studying Kurapika’s back as he walked away hastily, as if afraid to linger longer. 

****

   “Of course,” Melody said quietly, shifting from foot to foot. 

****

   “Why do you think he hasn’t said anything?”

****

   “About…?”

****

   “Yeah.” 

****

   Melody pursed her lips, thinking it over. “In all honesty?” she paused, trying to word her theory in a way that didn’t see accusatory. “I think he’s ashamed.” 

****

   The taller man furrowed his brow. “Ashamed?” he repeated. “Too much to tell me and let me help?”

****

   She shrugged at him. “I can understand. I don’t think he wants to tell everyone and make it tangible. Real.” Gripping her own luggage, she looked back up at Leorio, who looked awfully troubled at the suggestion. “Maybe it’s better for us to just let him forget.” 

 

* * *

 

   Kurapika had been doing his best to forget, at first. It should’ve been easy-- all he had to do was distract his thoughts from the very bane of his existence. But he hadn’t accounted for how easily Chrollo had infiltrated his subconscious. The soft, ghostly touches, the dark eyes watching his every move, the infuriating smirk haunting his dreams-- his soul mate had already begun sticking to him like a leech. 

****

   Less than a week after leaving York New, Kurapika sat up in his bed again, soul mark burning on his arm like it was on fire. Hissing, he curled defensively over it, holding it close to his chest. Raunchy snippets of his dream danced across the backs of his eyelids, taunting him, teasing him. _Hands and lips and eyes and teeth and heat and--_

****

   Kurapika couldn’t bear to sleep after that. He sat around in his room, back glued to a wall, as if afraid someone would sneak up on him. And maybe they would. He watched the soft dawn light seep slowly in through his window, cradling Chrollo’s earring in one hand and rolling it subconsciously against his soul mark. The coolness of the strange material relieved him of some of the pain. 

****

   When he realized what he was doing, he dropped the jewelry in disgust, moving off of the bed and staring at it glinting unassumingly in the sheets. He felt betrayed. By _himself_. 

****

_Enough is enough._

****

   As the blonde dressed for work, hands were shaking, vision blurry and teeth clenched tight, he decided it was time that he had to do something about his soul mark. He could no longer pretend that simply ignoring it would change anything. If anything, his feigned ignorance only served to make the festering ache in his heart worse. There was something intrinsic, buried inside him, that wanted him to relieve this itch. There was another _side_ of Kurapika that wanted to hunt Chrollo down and give in to this madness. 

****

   And that side of Kurapika had to die. 

****

   Promising that to himself, the Kurta let himself slip the seemingly innocent earring into his pocket again. If only to indulge himself for the time being. _It’s just a means to an end,_ he reminded himself. _I’m not giving in, I'm just behaving strategically. Until I can… I can…_ until he could do _what_ , he didn’t know. The excuse kept his thin facade from crumbling entirely, at least.  _Just a little longer._

****

   In the evening, Kurapika asked Melody to watch over the Boss, trying to ignore her concerned expression. “Is something going on?” she asked. 

****

   The Kurta didn’t dare lie to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth either. “Just something I need to do. Alone.” He managed a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me.”  With that, he left her behind, slipping out of the massive building the Boss had booked rooms in, clutching a scrawled address in his hand. 

****

   After wandering about the damp streets for nearly an hour, the sky began to darken in tandem with the streetlamps flickering on. Kurapika drew his coat closer around his shoulders, cursing as his breath fogged up the air. He walked faster and faster down the nearly deserted street until he came to an abrupt stop. There, on the side of the road, sat a decrepit little bookstore that was so bland that he nearly overlooked it. 

****

   Swallowing back his last inhibitions and doubts, he got his cold, trembling fingers on the door, pushing his way in and out of the cold. Quaint bells rung overhead as the heavy door fell back closed behind him with a heavy thump. Blue eyes flitted over stacks of dusty books bathed in the light from the streetlamps and reflective puddles. 

****

   “Hello?” His voice rang out shrilly, making him wince. 

****

   Nobody answered. 

****

   Wary of the creaking floorboards and tilted ceiling, the Kurta picked his way to the back, where an elderly woman sat, dozing at the register. “Hello?” he whispered, feeling a bit of guilt for trying to wake her up. She didn’t budge an inch at his voice. 

****

   Sighing, Kurapika looked back over his shoulder, wondering if he would be able to scavenge something useful on his own and leave. Another assessment of the mess of books across the cramped store had him reconsidering his options. _Maybe I could try somewhere else,_ he thought for a moment, but quickly decided against it. He had chosen this store for a reason-- the saturated selection of books with considerable knowledge on the elusive art of nen. _Then maybe I can just come back later?_ He was about to go through with this idea before he heard a shuffling noise. 

****

   His hair hit his face as he turned sharply to see the old woman, sitting up and bright-eyed like she hadn’t been sleeping at all. “You’re here.” She said simply, as if she had been expecting him. “I have just the thing for you,” she assured, turning away to fuss at the shelf behind her. _How did she know what I was here for?_ Her wrinkled hands pulled a few books from the shelf, where they had been resting, tied neatly together with twine as if specially packaged for Kurapika. “Here,” she said, setting them on the counter. “I had a few others, but these were more to your taste, I would think. Straight to the point.” 

****

   Kurapika looked down at the books, turning over the bundle to read the spines. _The Ancient Soul Mate Science,_ the thickest one read. _Biology of the Soul Mark_ , _The Conspiracy of Nen and Soul Mates_ , _Soul Mates for the Practical Mind_ \-- all the titles were exactly what he had been looking for. He glanced up at the old woman, who was smiling widely. There was something glinting in her eyes. “How did you… ?”

****

   If possible, her grin got even wider. “I know a lot of things, dear.” She reached out to him, resting her hand on top of his. “This soul mate business isn’t as simple as we might think.” Her expression receded back to something unreadable-- something somber. “It’s bigger and older and more powerful than you or me. Than all of us.” 

****

   At those words, Kurapika’s breath caught in his throat. He looked away from her, down at their hands as she pulled away. His gaze followed her wrist, though, and when she moved to ring up the books at the register, he saw it. Her soul mark. 

****

   Or what was left of it, in any case. 

****

   It had been burnt, it seemed. A big, ugly scar covering her whole wrist. He only saw it for a moment, but it told him what he needed to know. “Thank you,” he said numbly, pushing money across the counter and taking the books to cradle them to his chest. 

 

   The woman waved off his words, unbridled smile creeping back. “Think this through,” she said. Her voice was low, conspiratorial. “Fighting forces like these will only hurt.” 

****

   The Kurta blinked, seeing a flicker of thick aura around her before he turned away. “Right,” he said, closing his eyes. “Thank you,” he repeated when he had made his way back to the door. “Thank you.” It wasn’t for the books, and the old woman knew that, if the way she looked at him pityingly was any indication. Kurapika didn’t look back again, letting the door fall closed himself him, bells ringing again in his wake. The cold of the outside hit him like a slap to the face. There wasn’t a soul out and about at this hour, so the blonde pulled his jacket closer around him again, hugging the books to his chest like they were his last lifeline. 

****

* * *

****

   His last lifeline, his last hope, his last resort had failed him. 

****

   Kurapika sat on the floor of his room, crushing disappointment aching in his chest. His hands were balled into fists, nails biting into his palms and no doubt making them bleed, but he could care less. Curled up, he ducked his head down, leaving nothing for him to look at but the curtain of his own hair. He grit his teeth. _I’m not going to cry_ , he told himself firmly. _There has to be another way._ The words from the books swirled through his head, taunting. _Bonded, irreversible, permanent, impossible, divine temptations, fate, destiny, passion. Love._

****

   Each of the words was more disgusting than the last, making the blonde’s stomach lurch in protest. _This has to be a joke,_ he thought, trying to desperately deny the reality that he was slowly losing a grip on. _Why me? Why him? Why any of this--_ his nails raked down his soul mark again, the barely-healed scar already singing in pain anew at the treatment. But what did it matter? Soul mark or not, what was done was done. He could rip off his skin, crush his own arm to dust, drain himself of blood, and it would make no difference. His soul-- the very essence of his being-- was irremediably bonded to that of a murderer. 

 

    _His_ murderer. 

 

   The very one who had killed his dreams and hopes and family and the innocent Kurapika of years past. Now, even as an empty shell of a human being, he was tied to that very murderer. _Perhaps the fates would like to see me die again and again by his hand,_ the Kurta mused. _Killed in every way conceivable._ First it had been his heart, what next? His innocence, his prized intellect, his lifeless body? _What did it matter?_

****

   Kurapika tilted his head back, hair sticking to the edge of the cramped bed as he stared at the ceiling. It was painted a watery gray, looking like the sky before a particularly violent thunderstorm. He took solace in the fact that his imagined personal sky was grieving with him and closed his eyes. 

****

   That night, Chrollo took mercy on him and didn’t appear in his dreams-- _nightmares_ \-- to torment him. 

****

* * *

****

_Kurapika cut around the mark, peeling it off of his arm and leaving blood leaking onto the ground, but it just stained the muscle underneath it. Teeth gnashed together, he stabbed into the muscle and every layer under it. No matter how much of his arm he cut off, it was there, dancing in front of his eyes, until he was down to the bone._

****

_So he burned it._

****

_His screams were deafening, even to him, but he held the fire to his exposed bone resolutely, trying to let it scorch away the reminder that threatened to make a mockery of his entire existence._

****

_“I told you not to fight it.”_

 

_The Kurta looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, clutching his mangled arm in pain, keeping it as far away from him as possible. The lighter he had been holding sat abandoned on the floor, beside the knife that sat innocently in a pool of blood dried black, surrounded by the leaking remains of muscle and skin and bone shavings scattered about._

****

_In front of him was the old woman from the bookstore, brandishing her burned left wrist. It matched the burn on Kurapika’s bone, but it gave him no relief._

****

_“There has to be something,” he managed instead, tasting blood in his mouth._

****

_“I’m sorry, Kurapika.”  He looked back up at her, and then back down at his left hand. A blue glint caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The hand was barely attached to him anymore, quite literally hanging from a thread. But somehow, it obeyed his command as he unfisted it._

****

_Cradled in his palm was a piece of jewelry that he wished he would never see again._

****

* * *

****

   When consciousness faded in again, Kurapika could feel something was awfully wrong. Maybe it was the way the coldness of the room was no longer looming oppressively on him or the faint shuffling he could hear from the far corner of the room. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the living human being that his nen had curled around, chains at ready even when he was asleep. 

****

   His eyes popped open, instantly drawn to the person that he wanted to see least in the entire world. 

****

   Chrollo looked down at him from here he was leaning on the wall of the unfurnished room, tellingly next to the open window, looking so at ease that he looked like he belonged there. His expression was somewhat passive, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his obvious interest. “You’re awake,” he said simply, closing the book he had been holding in his hands. Kurapika’s eyes darted to it as the former Troupe Leader set it down on the rickety table in the corner of the room. It was one of the ones he had bought earlier-- _The Conspiracy of Nen and Soul Mates_. 

****

   Seeing it in the older man’s hands made it seem like a joke. But it was-- _everything_ was a joke to him. Still not saying a word, the Kurta glared at him, pushing himself up off of the floor where he had fallen asleep and hoping that he didn’t look too sleepy and delirious to be taken seriously. The sun was just beginning to rise outside, the dim light casting long shadows across the floors and highlighting only one side of the cursed face that haunted Kurapika’s dreams. 

****

   “You look rather drained. Perhaps you haven’t recovered from your earlier illness. I didn't take you to be so weak.” 

****

   “What are you doing?” Kurapika spat, the words coming out forced as he grit his teeth. Chains floated away from his fisted right hand, curling threateningly in the air around the intruder. 

****

   “Visiting,” Chrollo said with an entirely straight face. It was impossible to tell if he legitimately thought such an answer was acceptable or if it was his idea of a cheeky joke. 

****

   In vain, the blonde tried to maintain his heated glare, but the rampant burn racing up his left arm and the room spinning on account of stress and sleep deprivation left him disoriented and fishing for something else to say. _Anything._

****

   “You know, Kurapika,” the other man began, hands stuffed in his pockets as he advanced. He seemed just as relaxed as he had been during the hostage exchange, shoulders set back and eyes wide and dispassionate. “I don’t believe in souls. Fanciful stories, really. That’s all they are.” He was standing just a few steps from the Kurta now, tilting his head down to bridge their height gap. “Just a way to make the masses feel special. Like they’re not just another body after the life has seeped out of them. Like they’re unique. Irreplaceable.” 

****

   Kurapika didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting Chrollo to show up ( _yes you were,_ his subconscious piped up, betraying him), but he _especially_ hadn’t been expecting for him to show up and give him a nihilistic philosophy lesson. 

****

   “But the truth is…” the older man’s voice dipped, sounding gratingly intimate in the cold, quiet room. “Nobody matters. One day, we will all be eaten away by the worms and maggots until nothing is left but the remains of whatever foolish hope one harbored in life.” He reached for the shorter man’s face, but unlike last time, Kurapika was prepared. 

****

   He didn’t move an inch, but his chains came up to seize the probing arm, wrapping tight around it like a vice and leaving it suspended in midair. Chrollo’s lips quirked up a fraction, adding to the indignation burning in Kurapika’s chest. He desperately wanted to say something witty, something that showed that he wasn’t cowed or giving in. Maybe something like, “ _As much as I appreciate the indoctrination, you need to leave.”_ But the words wouldn’t come. His mind was too busy split between staring at Chrollo’s unblinking eyes, now only a foot away, and slowly processing the darkly poetic words he had said. 

****

   “Why, then,” the blonde managed finally. “If-- if nothing matters-- if you don’t matter, and I don’t matter, and there’s no souls or people or-- or-- then-- then why--” he swallowed, forcing himself to maintain stubborn eye contact as he collected himself. “Why me?” 

****

   Chrollo cocked his head, as if the question was silly. But his eyes were amused. “Why you,” he repeated in a flat tone. “While soul mates might just be intangible whimsical stories, my fascination is quite tangible, I assure you.” 

****

   Uncomprehending, Kurapika shook his head. “Bullshit,” he said, voice coming out breathy. “You’re not-- are you trying to say you’re interested in me? Of your own free will?” 

****

   The former Troupe Leader smiled, the action seeming dreadfully wrong as it didn’t reach his eyes in the least. “Perhaps,” he said. “Then again, maybe I _think_ it’s of my own free will. But then again, do we even _have_ free will? Or are we truly slaves to the fate so many believe in?” 

****

   “Shut up,” the blonde whispered, taking a step back and squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel himself hyperventilating, the cold air chilling his lungs. “Shut up.” _He’s doing this of his own free will_ , he repeated to himself, trying not to believe it. _But of course._ It made sense. There was not a thing in the world that could bend Chrollo Lucilfer to its will. Everything he did, he did of his own twisted volition. “Why me?” he asked again, not brave enough to open his eyes and see his tormentor standing so close. “Out of everyone, why me? The person who hates you more than anything else?” 

****

   “I have never been interested in things easy to acquire.” 

****

_This is a game,_ Kurapika repeated to himself again. _I’m a game to him. Everything is a game, everyone is a game to him._ But it wasn’t a game. _Not to me._ Even while trying to stomp it down, the Kurta could feel the compulsion to give in burning in his very core. His soul mark ached, bleeding imaginary blood down his arm. He opened his eyes to find the world painted red again for the first time since he had left York New. 

****

   It looked so wrong, _Chrollo_ looked so wrong, standing there in feigned innocence. His face was carefully blank, inviting, alluring, but Kurapika could read the danger in every other part of his body. The twitching fingers that had been soaked in the blood of hundreds, the planted feet that had stepped over corpses unfeelingly, the broad, proud shoulders that carried him royally through a life of unspeakable sin. 

****

   Everything about him was a bad idea. _He_ was a bad idea. And yet, he was also Kurapika’s destiny. 

****

   The thought brought forth another round of agony and Kurapika clutched at his tunic, fingers curling and turning white as he gripped too hard. _I’m not going to cry,_ he told himself, but it was too late. His eyes filled with the pain he had been suppressing for years, coupled with the anguish he had been carrying anew since York New. The pain of losing everything he ever knew, the numb fear of walking out into a world that he had never seen, the overhanging terror of being hunted, the _wrongness_ of being taken apart time and time again by the monster standing in front of him, and then learning that the monster was also supposed to be the one to put him back together-- it all came rushing at once. 

****

   His knees gave out from under him and Kurapika slumped onto the edge of the bed, the chains that had been holding Chrollo at bay falling off of him and clattering to the floor in quick succession. Tears rolled down the blonde’s face, but he made no effort to wipe them away. He sobbed in silence, and his soul mate did not say a word. 

****

   Instead, the older man stepped forward, hooking a finger under the Kurta’s chin and forcing his face up. Kurapika didn’t resist. _What’s the point anymore?_ There wasn’t a shred of emotion in Chrollo’s expression. _Not that I expected any._ Fighting his instinct to look away in shame, the blonde stared up unblinkingly, letting the tears fall freely. _Let him see. Let him see what he does. What he’s done._

****

   Chrollo’s hand drifted up, alarmingly gentle as a thumb caressed the skin under a beautiful red eye. His other hand cupped the other side of his face, making Kurapika’s heart race, blooding rushing through his ears. _I was wrong_ , the Kurta realized a moment later. There _was_ emotion on the older man’s face. 

****

   Stomach twisting, Kurapika watched as Chrollo drew one hand back, gazing at a tear that had rolled onto his thumb. He smiled mirthlessly at it, face dripping unmistakably with a sick sort of sadistic pleasure. Before he could bring himself to do anything else, black, emotionless eyes were barely an inch from his and a pair of cold lips hovering above his own. 

**  
** In his stupor, the blonde barely caught the faint whispered words before Chrollo leaned in. _“I will never get tired of those eyes."_ But in Kurapika's mind, he heard something else entirely.

 

_"I will never get tired of your pain."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Sorry if it seemed short, I didn't realize how abrupt it felt until I was rereading it to post it. Feel free to point out any mistakes (I forget to edit them out sometimes, but I usually get around to them eventually) as this is unbetaed as usual. 
> 
> Also let me know what you think about the plot! I'm always worried about characterization, especially, so it's nice to see comments and thoughts on that. It seems that whenever I'm stressed, Kurapika gets sadder. Oops. 
> 
> All that being said, you might have noticed the chapter count changing-- and yes, this is going to be five chapters long now. I meant to make it only three chapters, but I just keep on coming up with more juicy "middle" content that I can't resist throwing in. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading!! Corrections, thoughts, suggestions, even just little sad faces (or happy faces, if you like a little Kurapika!whump) are all appreciated!! Every comment helped me and motivated me get through this chapter!! Writers are fueled by validation!!! :D Kudos are also appreciated, and make sure to subscribe to this story and stay tuned!! 
> 
> <3 See you next time!


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